The Perils of Tuesdays
by Scribe Teradia
Summary: Theo really hated Tuesdays.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own J.K. Rowling's universe, I just like to play with her characters on occasion.

**Author's Note:** I refuse to take the blame for this, SeraphimeRising fed me a paragraph of crack that proceeded to run away with my brain. I would never have imagined this pairing otherwise.

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**The Perils of Tuesdays**  
by Scribe Teradia

Theo really hated Tuesdays.

Most people maintained that Mondays were the worst day of the week, when one had to catch up on whatever work had piled up over the weekend; Theo had never minded Mondays, he was meticulous enough (anal-retentive enough, according to Draco and Blaise) to make sure all of his accounts were in order, the filing and paperwork done, the better to minimize the Monday workload. Mondays he could handle just fine, it was Tuesdays he could do without. It was one of the hazards of being a consultant in the wizarding business world: with Mondays being so busy and stressful for most businesses, it took them until Tuesday to decide which problems to heap upon Nott & Associates, and thus it was on Tuesdays that his carefully-structured world invariably fell apart.

He knew he was in trouble on this particular Tuesday the second Astoria Malfoy set foot in his office. It was a rather shapely foot, delicate and fine-boned, much like the rest of Astoria, but it spelled trouble for Theo anyway. When she closed the door, he dragged his gaze upward, noting the navy skirt with a flared hem that was cut just short enough to be tantalizing, the pale blue blouse that accented her figure just so, the single strand of pearls at her throat. Trouble, every inch of her, right down to the pleading look in her crystal-blue eyes as she said, "I need your help, Theo."

Of course she did. Draco had been making noises for weeks now that he needed to cut the ties that bound him to his wife of ten years, not that Theo was about to tell her that. Nor was he going to tell her that he and Blaise had bet the night before the wedding on how long the marriage would last (Blaise had wagered six months, but then Blaise had never been a fan of commitment), but apparently she'd figured out for herself that Draco's twitchiness didn't bode well for her. Theo gestured for her to sit in the chair on the other side of his desk. "What sort of help is it that you're needing?" he asked, pleased that he managed to sound professional.

Disdaining to sit in the chair, Astoria walked closer and perched on the edge of his desk, which indicated that Theo was now in really seriously dangerous trouble. He was perfectly willing to admit that Astoria was a beautiful woman, and just as willing to admit that he had no business thinking anything along the lines of what he was thinking when her skirt rode up on her legs the way it did. There was some sort of code he was breaking somewhere to be having lascivious thoughts of his best friend's wife of ten years, particularly when said wife was the younger sister of his own ex-wife, with whom he'd managed to keep a fairly cordial relationship in the years since their divorce. His common sense and logic and libido were having it out in his head, and all the while Astoria was leaning closer, bending at an angle that allowed him quite the fascinating view of her cleavage (which gave his libido a firm upper hand), and then she fucking _purred_ at him, "I need your help to get away from Draco."

Theo decided to feign ignorance, to see just how much she knew. Leaning back in his chair and tearing his gaze away from the neckline of her blouse, he arched an eyebrow and said, "I'm not sure what you mean."

Astoria snorted. "Come on, Theo, you don't seriously believe I'm really as dim-witted as Draco likes to pretend I am, do you? You, more than anyone, ought to know better. After all, you were married to my sister."

"Draco doesn't pretend you're dim-witted," Theo protested, wondering why the hell he was bothering to leap to his friend's defense when it was true. Draco was unapologetically shallow about certain things, particularly about his women. He cleared his throat and tried to get back on topic. "What kind of help, exactly, are you wanting from me?"

Her lips curved in a wicked smirk as she leaned toward him again; it was, Theo decided, the sexiest expression he'd ever seen on any woman's face. Pity Daphne had never looked at him that way, one more sign they'd been right to part ways when they had. "I'm sure you remember that ridiculous pre-nuptial agreement Draco had me sign, yes?" Theo nodded, not trusting himself to speak because his resolve to stick to the man-code was rapidly crumbling. She slid off the desk and leaned over him, her lips barely grazing his earlobe. "I know he's been fucking Parkinson. He knows I can use it against him if it comes to a divorce, and he'll lose a sizable portion of his assets." Theo was trying desperately not to squirm, but the sound of her voice combined with her breath across his ear was maddening. "If, however, both parties should happen to violate the infidelity clause, it becomes a moot point."

Straightening abruptly, Theo sucked in a breath to ask if she was suggesting what he thought she was suggesting. Only, he never got a chance, because he got a nose full of her scent, and the next thing he knew she was in his lap, her mouth on his. She kissed him hungrily, nipping and sucking at his lips, then his tongue, her hips moving almost frantically against his. Theo grabbed for her hands, pulling her away in an effort to slow her down lest he embarrass himself before they ever got properly started. "Astoria," he panted, as sanity made a last-ditch effort to reassert itself, "are you sure about this?"

"Oh, for Salazar's sake, don't wuss out on me now!" she pleaded, rolling her hips against his. "I've seen how you look at me, when you think no one is watching. You've wanted me since the day you married my sister, Theo, don't you think it's time you finally took what you wanted?"

Theo realized suddenly that she was right: it was about time he stopped thinking about everyone else and behaved like a proper Slytherin. With a growl, he pulled her close, capturing her mouth with his and allowing his hands to busy themselves with removing her clothing. She tasted like honey, felt warm and soft and pliable in his hands, and his head swam with a cloud of lust. He cupped her backside and held her against him as he stood, carrying her toward the sofa he was sure his decorator had _not_ intended to be used for the purpose he had in mind. Clothing was shed in a frenzy of popping buttons and tearing fabric, carelessly flung aside as skin was bared.

Astoria's beauty was undeniable, but Theo had never realized before that beneath the chilly surface of her ice-queen exterior was a woman who was passionate as well as beautiful, not until she was raking her fingernails down his chest, her lips brushing his earlobe as she whispered vulgar things into his ear. The already-fragile remainder of his self-control shattered, and he wound a hand in her hair, pulling her head back so that he could kiss her fiercely, claiming her mouth with his as his other hand caressed its way downward. The dampness between her thighs both surprised him and thrilled him, and a vicious whisper in his head wondered if Draco had ever made her this ready this quickly; that voice was quickly drowned by the sound of Astoria's moan as he thrust into her, which was quite possibly one of the most beautiful things he'd ever heard in his life.

The old adage 'never kiss and tell' had never held any weight with Draco, who was more of the opinion that there was no point in kissing (and other activities) if he couldn't brag about it afterward; consequently, Theo and Blaise and all of his other cronies had been intimately aware of every aspect of his sex life since he'd first made out with Pansy under the mistletoe at the Yule Ball (that he'd felt up her chest in the process was a detail he gloated about for weeks afterward). Which was how Theo knew that Draco hadn't touched his wife in nearly a year, and he felt a certain satisfaction in being the one to break her dry spell. Sex with Astoria was nothing like sex with Daphne had been, and not just because there was an extra thrill in the fact that this was an illicit activity; Astoria had an inner fire that burned like cold flame, whereas Daphne had just been cold.

Coherent thought finally started return some forty minutes or so later, as the sweat cooling on his skin sent a shiver through him. Sanity was making a desperate bid for a comeback, and he wasn't sure he wanted it to return just yet, not with Astoria deliciously limp in his arms, her eyes closed, golden curls wildly splayed around her head like a halo. There was a nagging feeling that he was forgetting something, though, he just couldn't quite remember what that something was.

As if on cue, the door to his office opened, and Draco sauntered in. "Theo, mate, are you--" Whatever he was going to say was interrupted as he took in the sight of the naked pair still intertwined on the sofa, and he went white with fury. "Astoria." Cold fury, his voice was eerily, scarily calm. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

His wife lifted her arms over her head, stretching languidly, and the sight of her doing that scrambled Theo's brain again so that he nearly forgot that her husband was standing in the doorway looking murderous. "Exactly what it looks like," she replied, turning her head to kiss Theo's shoulder before moving to disentangle herself. It took her less than five minutes to locate her scattered clothing and get dressed, during which time none of them said a word. She was still looking rumpled and thoroughly satisfied when she bent to kiss his cheek before turning for the door. "Thank you for a lovely afternoon, Theodore," she said, as nonchalant as if they hadn't just been discovered in a compromising position by her husband. "Perhaps we can do it again sometime."

The door closed behind her, and Draco glowered at Theo. "What the fuck was that about?" he roared, his face reddening with anger and embarrassment.

This, Theo reflected, was precisely why he hated Tuesdays.

**The End**


End file.
